


cold.

by itsOzzie



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, F/F, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26519845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsOzzie/pseuds/itsOzzie
Summary: Check the Additional Tags for TWs!I've decided to not continue this fic. It works fine as a oneshot, and it was poorly-timed, and because of that timing it now just exists as a reminder of things in my personal life that I don't want to think about. It was supposed to be a happy ending, but the world doesn't work like that sometimes.Thanks for reading anyway.~Ozzie
Relationships: Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan, Dee Dee Allen/Tom Hawkins
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Check the Additional Tags for TWs!  
> I've decided to not continue this fic. It works fine as a oneshot, and it was poorly-timed, and because of that timing it now just exists as a reminder of things in my personal life that I don't want to think about. It was supposed to be a happy ending, but the world doesn't work like that sometimes.
> 
> Thanks for reading anyway.  
> ~Ozzie

It was a calm Saturday morning when Emma pulled up to Dee Dee's new apartment in Brooklyn. She had taken the weekend off to help Dee Dee move in, and Alyssa had simply rolled her eyes and declined. So here Emma was, with just her and Barry, 3 months after prom. What Emma didn't realize was that Dee Dee hadn't relearned enough to understand why she had to help them help her. Perhaps that was why Alyssa decided to stay in the city for work. It took way longer than Emma or Barry wanted to convince her this was her job too. Barry was a little ticked off, citing her promise to put the needs of others before her own, so she reluctantly agreed. Still, by the time they were moving in a very modern, metal coffee table 3 hours later, complaining her arms were tired. So she was rummaging through the wine cabinet when the table came in through the door, Barry facing the room and Emma being forced to trust him. 

That wasn't so terrifying anymore.

Despite that, though, Barry's eye was just a little off, maybe only a centimeter. They were turning a corner to get to the living room when Emma's foot clipped the corner on she stumbled, twisting her ankle in a way she didn't think was possible. Barry slipped upon watching Emma's ankle twist, losing his end of the table. The pain was a slow-motion shockwave. But it was only a little tingle or a tiny burn in her foot compared to what happened when she went into self-defense mode and instinctively braced for impact without thinking. 

She let go of the table and effectively slammed her forearm into the wooded floor, and her face hit it half a second later, but she was able to bounce back quickly and roll onto her back before the next impact came, running on only adrenaline. At least that was the kind of abuse she was used to, even if she thought her arm had landed funny too. But even the possibility of a broken arm and ankle was nothing compared to what happened in the same instant. The table fell on top of her. And because of the pain of two probably broken bones, her body had crumpled awkwardly and the table was at the perfect angle to oddly smash her knee in. The second the corner bashed her leg, the table tipped over toward her chest, hitting her ribcage just hard enough to leave a mark. After all this, it was a miracle that Barry was the one to start screaming.

"Oh my God, Dee Dee, you better not have started drinking yet!"

There was a loud groan and Emma flinched at the thought of being an annoyance or a burden, holding back a whimper at the utter spasm this caused “What?”

“We dropped the fucking table,” Barry stated.

Emma took in a breath, body tremoring from the pain that was breathing with a bruise on her chest. “No, I did...I dropped it…”

“Great. Now I know who's paying.”

Barry huffed but knew he couldn't bother with Dee Dee when Emma was stuck under the table.

“ Can I pull you out by your hands?" He asked, noticing quickly that one of her arms was a little crooked. I’ll be careful with the left.”

It wasn't like Emma had a choice. Still, however ginger Barry was, it wasn't enough, as he pulled her arms forward a bit and she couldn't suppress the scream that came with the adrenaline wearing off coupled with the slightest of movements.

“Ssh,” Barry eased. “I know it sucks but I've got you. Papa Bear’s got you.”

She felt so far from okay. Her ankle burned and her forearm was clearly out of place. Even the half-smile and chuckle at the stupid nickname made her muscles ache but nothing compared to her leg, hot from rapid blood flow and cramping because even one touch and she'd be screaming even louder. Bone was poking out and there was already blood everywhere, gushing from where bone pierced skin and suddenly Emma thought she'd throw up from the pain.

“Oh fuck, that's so much blood. I'm sorry, kid, you know I get queasy.”

“What the fuck is going...oh my God,” Dee Dee was finally lured in by the calamity.

“I know. It's okay, I'm thinking of a plan.”

"I'm assuming that somewhere in that plan it says she's paying to get the blood-stains out of this rug?" Dee Dee deadpanned, completely serious.

Barry was visibly reeling over this, getting up from where he had helped Emma lean against the side of the couch (he couldn't lift her like this) to get to Dee Dee's level, mouth now hanging open. In a race of thought, he made an inarticulate gesture with his hands before making a decision. "You...are an asshole, _still_!"

"I've heard this before," Dee Dee responded.

"It doesn't matter, because you think when Tom isn't around you can go back to your usual, but that's not how any of this works! Haven't you learned anything, Dee Dee?! If you want _I'll_ replace the table _and_ the carpet, because God knows a broke 18-year-old who can barely pay rent will never be able to afford that for another decade, and what would he think of you suggesting that..." Barry hissed, genuine rage filthing his voice.

Emma was sure she would've loved to hear Dee Dee get some more sense slapped into her any other day, but not now. She felt herself getting lightheaded in the background of the stabbing sensations all over her body and though she would've loved to, she was in too much pain to faint, even though the pain was what made her think she was going to faint. And she couldn't focus on anything else, not even the words coming from 3 feet away. So they trailed into mush and Emma remembered something she hadn't wanted to remember. She was seven years old and home from school because of strep throat when screaming from down the hall woke her up. She found her mom and dad in the middle of an argument, and in the spur of the moment, Emma's father slapped her across the face and told her to _get the fuck out of my way._

"Stop," Emma begged with a slight whimper. "Please."

When Barry just barely heard Emma's plea over the blood rushing in his ears and his screams, he found her staring at her, wide-eyed, frozen, and with tears in her eyes. He found it amazing how well she was always able to compose herself, or at least make it look like she was okay. Today it only half-worked because Barry knew her too well. "Sorry, it was stupid to berate _this dick_ right now."

"Stop yelling," she said shakily. 

She had dropped her voice to a whisper only Barry could hear, and after that still hurt, she moved her not broken arm to the spot where it stung and tried to make herself appear a little smaller even if it hurt her chest a little. Wanting to ground herself from an oncoming panic, she moved her neck, practically the only thing that didn't hurt, to stare up at the ceiling. Just count the lights, and hold back tears, two oddly simple tasks that she immediately failed at as she started seeing spots and Barry noticed her anxiety. 

“Hey, hey, I’m gonna get you some water, okay? Dee Dee, I need you to call Alyssa. If anyone knows what to do it’s her."

* * *

Alyssa had an hour left in her shift when she got the first call. Odd, since she and Dee Dee weren't close, so she figured it was a mistype and after a little hesitation hung up on her. The number flashed onscreen again in seconds, but again, she declined the call. But the calls rolled in one after another with so little time between that it couldn't be a mistake, and Alyssa snuck away to the break room because she was suspecting something was off. Knowing Dee Dee it would be unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but it was too insistent to not worry.

To her surprise, Alyssa found her manager in the breakroom. She was having less of a break and moreso an excuse for coffee but that was irrelevant.

“Ash, I’m so sorry, I gotta take this.”

They barely looked up from their laptop, only raising an eyebrow as a silent interrogation.

“The same number called, like, 6 times just now.”

“You sure it's not spam?” Ash asked, still not moving their eyes from the screen and typing as they spoke.

“She's in my contacts.”

“Go ahead,” Ash agreed when the phone rang again.

“Oh, finally, I was starting to think you’d never pick up,” Dee Dee’s voice came through the line.

“You know I’m at work. This better be important.”

"Do you have a doctor you can call?" she asked with no explanation.

Alyssa hesitated, forgetting for a moment just how rich Dee Dee was. "Ha, no."

"Well, fuck."

"Why, what's going on?"

"Emma's leg is shattered."

Alyssa nearly dropped the phone, gaping for a moment as she heard a faint voice in the background. "Your fault for not spotting us!"

Dee Dee shot back. "Your fault for letting her drop it!" 

An argument was about to burst again when Alyssa gathered her senses. "Shut up. Shut up. Stop yelling. You're telling me you haven't called an ambulance yet?!"

"What's the problem with yelling? We're freaking out over here!"

"It's... a long story. I don't trust you guys with any of it right now. And I don't have time, I gotta get back to work." With that, Alyssa hung up and suddenly realized she was hyperventilating. Just stare at a patch on the wall for a second and breathe.

“Alyssa.”

Now Ash was standing right in front of her and she had barely noticed, but with a shaky breath, she dared to meet their eyes.

"I'm not making you go back to work."

"What?" Alyssa stuttered.

"I heard you mention an ambulance, and...look, I'm sorry if I come off awful sometimes, but I'm not gonna be that way now. Make sure everything's okay. I'll get someone to cover the rest of your shift."

Alyssa nodded. "Yeah...thank you."

"Of course," Ash replied, but the door to the breakroom had already slammed shut by the time she spoke, and Alyssa was powerwalking down the hallway already while sending a text to Dee Dee.

**you call the ambulance yet**

**No, working on it**

**What's the number?**

**youre joking**

**Nope**

**i forget youre a gazillionaire**

**911**

**let me know what hospital and I'll be omw in 2 minutes**

* * *

"O-M-W?" Dee Dee thought out loud, for a moment forgetting the thing Alyssa needed her to do until Barry called out from beside Emma.

"Doesn't matter, Dee Dee, just call the number."

Emma wanted to wonder how much this ambulance would cost her but she couldn't think. The pain radiating from everywhere was too distracting, building up from her thought that Dee Dee wouldn't take the screams threatening to boil over all that well, but even when she mustered the strength to speak, she couldn't manage more than a mumble, like she hurt so bad she couldn't even breathe fully.

"Barry...I'm gonna faint."

"Not on my watch, kid," he promised as someone picked up on the call Dee Dee just made. _911, whats your emergency?_ "Alyssa would kill me if I let you pass out." 

With that, Barry sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before daring to look down at the gore on her leg, still recoiling even though it looked like only a mud print through her jeans. He squeezed his eyes shut again before pulling up the pant leg, and the only reaction Emma had was a pained groan. She couldn't muster much else.

The blood was gushing from Emma's knee and showed no signs of slowing. In somewhere between 5 and 10 minutes, it had already begun to dry, turning a disgusting brown around her crooked and bent kneecap. Still, fresh layers of the blood were drizzling from her leg and found a place pooling around her on the floor. Barry gagged quietly compared to the ringing in her ears and it was no wonder she felt so faint. Still, he kept going with it, grabbing a corner of the rug the table was supposed to go on and pulling it closer.

"This is gonna suck," he said, and Emma barely heard him until the carpet was being wrapped around her leg, at which point the pain somehow doubled to replace her tiredness and she had the jolt she needed to express her pain through a blood-curdling scream.'

"No, please stop! It hurts!"

He looked down from Emma's face that was quickly losing color, hanging his head in shame. "I know, honey."

Emma errupted into sobs that second, the new intensity making her go limp, so Barry had to hold her up with his free hand. Oddly, as she collapsed into him, the slightest motion mixed with this pain made her nauseous. Meanwhile, the sobs and screams finally got to Barry and he let up, knowing there were no painkillers that would help this.

"Cold," Emma finally slurred after a moment. Am I dying?"

"No," Barry stated, surprisingly calm despite Emma looking just as ill as before. Only now the sensation in her leg was overwhelming and it became white at the edges of her vision. Barry looked back up just in time to see her lip stop trembling and her eyes glazing over before they shut slowly and miraculously, she looked sort of peaceful.

"Number 1312, in the penthouse," Dee Dee finished as Barry looked over at her helplessly.

"How long will it be?" he asked nervously when she hung up.

"10 minutes."

Barry sighed deeply, putting his head in his hands.


End file.
